If It Tastes Good, Eat It
by mixtapes
Summary: [oneshot] 'It started with a cookie.' And it ended almost as quickly as it started. Zeke teaches our favorite drama queen that sometimes taking chances can bring delicious rewards. ZS


**Note**: Zeke/Sharpay isn't the easiest couple to write, but I do love them together and I really wanted to be able to say that I'd written at least one fanfiction concerning them. Enjoy!

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**if it tastes good, eat it **

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_It's not as easy as willing it all to be right  
Gotta be more than hoping it's right  
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it_

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It started with a cookie.

Well, actually, it started with one absolutely scrumptious and addicting chocolate chip cookie which wafted a seriously mouthwatering smell – but she supposed just saying _it started with a cookie_ was good enough. How delicious the cookie tasted and smelled and looked was completely irrelevant.

One little homemade cookie had sparked an unexpected and somewhat adorable fling between a spoiled, conniving, overconfident drama queen and a popular, sweet basketball player who happened to make amazing pastries. It was a relationship that took most of the student population at East High by surprise, and few people seemed to accept it at first. It wasn't exactly easy to entirely break apart from the status quo. But even if they had wanted to, they didn't have time to adjust to the relationship at all, for it ceased nearly as quickly as it started: She had dumped him after two brief weeks.

For Zeke, the fairytale had not lasted long enough. He was distraught but seemed to have given up hope, and though many expected him to, he did not try to win her back. He just nodded and grimaced when Troy clapped him on the back in support, when Chad assured him fiercely that she was nothing more than a cold bitch, when Jason offered to shoot baskets with him after school as a distraction. He was silent during lunch, silent during basketball practice, and he didn't want to hang out after school or hit any of the parties.

What he wanted was her.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that. And she was also well aware that she hadn't treated him fairly, that it had been wrong to lead him on and let him think that it would last. But that hadn't stopped her from actually doing it – she justified it in her head by saying that it wasn't her fault, that she never asked to be the object of his affections.

It was only five in the afternoon on a relatively breezy Sunday, but Sharpay didn't have anywhere to go. She attended her singing lessons on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday, and her dancing classes were on Wednesday and Thursday. Saturday was always used up by her local musical theatre class. She no longer took acting classes because, in her opinion, there weren't any good classes anymore and she didn't need them anyway. She liked to think of herself as a busy aspiring Broadway star, but that didn't change the fact that her Sundays were free. Sundays were the time for her to do homework, to relax, to get manicures and pedicures, to get her hair done. But most Sundays found Sharpay doing nothing but listening to some soundtrack on her iPod. (Indeed, her iPod consisted of nearly four hundred songs, and they were all songs from musicals. She always bought every single musical soundtrack that was released, and also the Original Broadway Cast Recording, which was usually her favorite. She even had the _Cats_ soundtrack, and she hated that musical.)

At the moment she had settled on listening to the Original Broadway Cast Recording of _Wicked_, which definitely made her top ten list. The vocals on the first song hadn't even started when she was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door. Irritated even though she wasn't really doing anything, she hit the pause button before directing a harsh, "What?" in the general direction of her bedroom door.

The door creaked open, and one of the maids poked her head in. "Sorry Miss Evans, but there is someone here to see you."

"Who?" Sharpay demanded. "Tell Ryan I'll be down for dinner. If it's really important, tell him to come back in an hour or something. I'm _busy_." It was a prevarication at the least, but Sharpay was both a marvelous actress and an accomplished liar, so the maid believed her immediately.

"My apologies, miss. But your guest won't be attending dinner, not unless you invite him. I'm not sure if you are familiar at all with a Mister Baylor?"

Sharpay's head shot up, and the forgotten earphones tumbled out of her ears and onto her bedspread. "Mister Baylor?" She repeated, disbelieving. "Are you sure? He's here?" After an affirmative nod from the maid, she smirked, composing herself, and said calmly, "Well let him in, then."

"Up here, miss?" The maid looked almost scandalized, and Sharpay realized what she must have been implying.

She shrugged casually in response, slipping her earphones back on and pressing play. The maid hurriedly left to relay the message, and even the house was uncommonly large, three minutes hadn't passed before there was a much gentler knock on the door. This time, Sharpay only lowered the volume. "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Zeke walked in, looking very nervous. He stood silently in the doorway for a minute or so, looking down at the light pink carpet uncertainly and shuffling his feet. He awkwardly said a greeting, though he managed a small smile, "Hey, Sharpay."

Sharpay chose to skip the formalities. "What are you doing in my house?" She noticed his eyes flash with hurt, but it was gone within seconds. She didn't really feel bad about it – he had come uninvited of his own free will – but she supposed that she needn't be so harsh with him.

He changed the subject. "What are you listening to?" He nodded at her iPod.

She rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him. "_No One Mourns the Wicked_," she responded impassively. She thought about asking him why he had come all the way to her house again, but decided against it. She'd play his game for a little while, and she'd win anyway.

"That's a really good opening number."

Sharpay was taken aback; her hazel eyes widened slightly in surprise. "You know _Wicked_?" she inquired suspiciously, and his lips curved into another tiny smile.

"Well I haven't seen it or anything. I don't have enough money to go all the way to New York or anything. But I have it on my iTunes."

She frowned at him, her face almost disapproving. "I don't believe you."

"I would prove it to you, but I left my iPod at home. Maybe I'll show you some other time, if you want." At her annoyed stare, he elaborated, "I heard you talking about it when I was walking by the theatre, so one day I decided to check it out. I'd like to see it some time. I would, if I had enough money."

Sharpay hated being caught off guard. Her frown deepened before she finally managed to compose herself. "I would recommend the LA production. At the Pantages Theatre. You know, Eden Espinosa? Megan Hilty? It's closer to Albuquerque."

Zeke nodded. "You've seen both?"

With a smirk, she said, "Of course. I've also seen the original, with Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth."

He couldn't suppress a grin. "You know, Sharpay, I've always wondered what you were doing here in Albuquerque. I always thought that if I had seen you somewhere, without really knowing you, you would have looked like a city girl or something. Already making it big in New York or something. Or planning to."

She had to admit that it was one of the nicest compliments she'd gotten from someone that wasn't related to her or frightened of her. That was the thing about Zeke, perhaps the thing she both disliked and admired the most: He wasn't afraid of her. He just..._liked_ her. For who she was, ice bitch and all. It was pretty disconcerting, but it was also kind of intriguing to know that she couldn't have a handle on everyone.

"It's all part of the plan. That's all I'm telling you. Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. You know the drill."

He smiled again, and it was a brighter, more comfortable smile than before. It slowly faded after a brief silence, however, and Zeke sighed resignedly. "I think," he declared, "that that's one of the reasons I like you so much. You're always so sure of everything. Of the future, of others, of yourself. Not many people I know are like that."

"It's a gift."

"It probably is," he agreed. "You know, I really wish I was good enough for you, Sharpay." He didn't try to avoid her penetrating gaze as she finally took her earphones off and stared at him, calculating. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? She didn't want a relationship. She didn't want him. She was Sharpay Evans, she was bitchy, talented, demanding, spoiled, gorgeous, arrogant, bombastic...and alone. Completely alone. The only who could bear her company for longer than a musical theatre rehearsal was her own brother, and he endured it only because he had to. Who did she have left? Was there anyone who would...jump in front of a moving train for her or something? Probably not. She didn't have anyone.

But she could have had Zeke. Here was someone who was more than willing to accept her how she was, who would bake cookies for her and compliment her, and just treat her like she wasn't a dramatic bitch. But she had refused him, she had made it clear that no matter how many cookies he baked or how many compliments he gave her or how many times he tried to get her to open up, he would never be good enough.

"You were my first boyfriend, you know." She didn't know where she was going with that point, she didn't know where the conversation was going. But suddenly she felt compelled to speak, to explain, to make him see that she wasn't doing this – that she wasn't breaking his heart – for fun.

"I really don't believe that," he said softly. "You're too amazing to have not had a boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes. "Only you think that," she pointed out, her voice slightly coarse. "No one else can understand why you like me so much."

He took a step away from the doorway, towards her. "Are you scared?" His voice was still soft, still a murmur, cautious but not guarded at all. He was offering her what no else would. "Are you scared to be with me?"

She snapped sharply, "Of course not. Don't be stupid." She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She felt almost angry – she shouldn't have to try to keep up the walls that blocked her from everyone else. She was supposed to be invincible. "And how do I know you're not just talking? How do I know that this is how you really feel? How do I know you don't just want sex or something?" She stomped her foot in frustration.

Zeke didn't look offended; for the first time, he looked slightly amused. "Sharpay, how many guys bake cookies just to get a girl to have sex with them? Look, I can't prove anything unless you let me. You need to open up. You don't have to be so guarded all the time."

Sharpay rolled her eyes, but a smile graced her lips.

"You don't have to be so careful, Sharpay," he said gently. "I know that I can give you something else no one can. Don't block me out." She nodded slowly. She hadn't realized that he had continued walking slowly but steadily closer to her, and suddenly he was right in front of her. He extended a hand, and she took it before resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid," he murmured again. "I always say, if it tastes good, eat it."

Sharpay lifted her head and met his eyes. She placed her hand on his face with a tenderness that surprised both of them. "If it tastes good, eat it," she repeated, and then she pressed her lips firmly onto his.

_Delicious_.

Of course.

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_I just keep hoping that your heart opens_

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**Note**: I like writing the Troy/Gabriella couple better, but Zeke/Sharpay is just so cute. I tried really hard to keep them both in character, so hopefully I was successful with that. I wanted to build up their relationship slowly, while still maintaining Zeke's determined but sweet personality and Sharpay's rather indifferent and confident one. I also tried to break down Sharpay bit by bit and gradually reveal her vulnerability. Everyone's got an Achilles' Heel, right? Watch out for the next update of _WYD_. There's plenty more TG action on the way!

**Review**?


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